


rage, rage against the dying of the light

by dontstraytoofar



Category: Atomic Blonde (2017)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Soulmate AU, oh man this movie ended me, so did these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 15:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstraytoofar/pseuds/dontstraytoofar
Summary: She wonders if she’s ever loved anyone like this before.(She hasn’t. And with the way Lorraine holds tighter, neither woman have)





	rage, rage against the dying of the light

**Author's Note:**

> based off the cliche 'soulmate tattoo au' (basically being born with the name of your soulmate on any part of your body)
> 
> also, delphine? alive in all my fics? its more likely than you think
> 
> ps. this is like my first time writing smut hfjsdghdfjs so feedback super appriciated!
> 
> enjoy!

_There are souls that you feel you must lean forward to, like a sun-filled window._

_\- Federico García Lorca_  
  

 

 

 

-

 

 

When Delphine was twelve, she almost drowned.

It was dumb, avoidable and _entirely_ her fault. She remembers how her _mère_ cried while holding her in their houses pool. Her body floating as she felt the older woman’s tears on her cheeks. She remembers the feeling of the pooling’s tiles, how she shivered when the last compression was crushed down onto her chest; her body curling upwards as she gasped for air. Water sputtering from her lungs and mouth.

Her mother cried in relief as she held her. Delphine tasted chlorine for three days straight.

It’s the reason she doesn’t die as the zip tie constricts around her throat, it’s the reason she pretends to be a limp lifeless body, stilling her chest to stop moving. It’s almost second nature, conserving air as her lungs tighten to their extent.

She’s clutching the letter in her hand, _Lorraine_ printed in pretty letters. The tattoo on the back of her neck printing the same name, now covered in bruises; yet never has been more beautiful.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

She’s not sure how long she lays, holding her breath that little longer just in case. But she hears the clacking of heels against hardwood floors, and it’s enough for her to take a breath, a stuttering wheeze as her trachea throbs.

But it’s the sob, the sound of someone’s knees falling to the floor, that has Delphine flopping onto her stomach; breathing deep and raspy as she presses her fist to the wood. Trying fervently to muster _any_ ounce of strength. But she can’t even lift her forehead from the floor with how weak her bones are, it hurts just to _breathe_ in tiny little gasps. She tries to rasp out anything, any word, any sound that could leave her lips.

But nothing escapes except air.

 “Fuck. Fuck, _fuck_. Oh my god”

Delphine lets a tired sob out, the movement scratching her throat so much that it just makes her cry out in pain as she hears the other woman’s voice. She feels Lorraine’s gentle hands at her shoulder blade, how she brushes back a strand of Delphine’s hair. The younger woman can hear an almost inaudible “ _Shhh”_ as painful sobs wrack her body.

 “Here, it’s okay. I’ve got you”

Lorraine’s arm encircles under her armpit, her other coming under her knees, hoisting Delphine up with a groan. She’s just barely able to lift the younger woman’s body onto the bed, her own bones aching and her split lip seeping blood into Delphine’s hair as her head lulls onto the older woman’s shoulder.

Lorraine can’t stop her gaze from lingering.

There is this feeling, deep in the recess of her chest, it sprouts into her ribcage and makes its home in Lorraine’s stomach. It feels a little something like worry. Like relief and love and a feeling she thought she once lost. She swallows, burying it for now.

The tattoo on the inside of her wrist burns, throbbing with the syllables of Delphine’s name.

She moans in relief as she’s able to lay Delphine’s body gently on the mattress, the sudden movement making Delphine’s back hit the surface hard, her lungs opening on instinct for air as she wheezes in pain.

Lorraine winces in apology, kneeling by the bed, hand in Delphine’s hair. She doesn’t miss the way her own hand shakes.

(Has she fallen? She can’t tell. But Delphine looks to her with this _look_ and Lorraine feels a little like the sun. Bright. Warm. Unstoppable.)

 “St…s..”

She watches Delphine grit her teeth, shutting her eyes as she fails to produce words. The older woman simply hushes her, her hand now running through her loves hair. “It’ll only hurt the more you talk”

But Delphine shakes her head negatively, her hand falls to grip the front of Lorraine’s shirt in a tight fist. Like seeking an anchor. Lorraine wants to hold her, to hold her soft edges and fall into sheets and forget the world ever existed before the two of them. She wants to take the pain her love is feeling, she wants to take it and bare it if she has to.

God, she’d take any suffering if it meant Delphine would breathe another day. Live to see the sun hitting her skin, making her glow.

It’s funny, the first time Delphine saw her own name on Lorraine’s wrist, it wasn’t an earth shattering moment. A star stopping “Oh”. It was more of an _ah. It’s you. It’s always been you._ And when they were tangled in sheets, gasping and moaning with their skin almost melting into the other, Lorraine would trace the back of Delphine’s neck; running her thumb over the letters that sat there while the younger woman licked and sucked between her thighs; drawing the most sinful moans from her lovers’ lips.

(It was kinda like a symphony; their love. A push and pull that left them both gasping each other’s name.)

Lorraine, lost in her thoughts, lets her fingers trace lightly at the bruising on Delphine’s neck, a rage consumes her; almost seeming to climb up her spine and _demand_ to be felt. She hates that her name is now purple on Delphine, fuck she hates it with a passion that nearly stops her breathing.

She furrows her brow, and her words are almost calm, said with a surprising simmering anger as her fingers continue to trace lightly at the welts.

 “I’ll kill him”

Yet, Delphine just smiles, her throat bobs in what Lorraine assumes is an attempt to laugh. And Lorraine’s lips tilt upwards as well in mirth, but both women know there’s nothing joking in the three words that were said.

 “G...Go”

It’s almost just a breath of air with how quiet it is; but it’s said with a conviction and tone that leaves no room for argument. It makes Lorraine falter slightly because _No, no I’m not leaving you again._ So she frowns, shaking her head, bringing their foreheads together. Fuck, she knows it, she’s fallen.

(But with the way Delphine catches her, with how she is _there_ when she falls makes Lorraine not fucking care. At all. In the _slightest_ )

 “No, hey. _No”_ Her breath is so soft against Delphine’s lips, and the younger woman leans closer to catch the lingering feeling. Their heads moving impossibly closer as she whispers against Delphine’s lips. “I’m not leaving you”

When she opens her eyes, when Lorraine gazes back to the younger girl’s mouth, there’s a tear nestled just above the bow of her lips. She feels how Delphine chuckles wetly against her, she feels it against her lips and just the _knowledge_ of her love crying starts to break Lorraine’s composure.

She isn’t weak for feeling love. There isn’t anything weak about what she feels for the woman she holds. So she kisses her, breathing her in, feeling the small gasp Delphine lets out against her mouth and she tastes like hope; like the light filtering through the window, like mint and promises. Like her soulmate.

She pulls her closer, Lorraine kisses her impossibly deeper; almost melting at the quiet whimper that leaves Delphine’s lips.

(But Delphine croaks into the kiss again to _Go._ She says it over and over again between kisses. _Go, go, go)_

When the bullet pierces his skull, when Percival is lifeless and bleeding; when his voice still echoes around the ally-way like a beating drum Lorraine lets a breath out. Her shoulders lose their tension; her jaw clenches in the effort to walk back, to turn around.

She falls into bed with Delphine, their backs to the mattress and stares to the ceiling. Delphine intertwines their hands that sit between them, squeezes tightly, as if Lorraine would slip through her grip like sand between a net.

And Lorraine curls around Delphine, arm across her stomach, face pushed into her neck softly; mindful of the bruising. She doesn’t realise she’s crying in relief, tears steady down her cheek, until Delphine is running her fingers through her hair, her hoarse hushing the only sound the blonde woman clings onto. That and the feeling of the younger woman tracing the tattoo on the inside of her wrist.

She mumbles into Delphine’s neck as her hand tightens around her waist.

 “Don’t fucking scare me like that again”

Delphine presses her lips to the side of the older woman’s face, breathing her in, closing her eyes. She wonders if she’s ever loved anyone like this before.

 “I promise”

(She hasn’t. And with the way Lorraine holds tighter, neither woman have)

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

_Paris_

 

 “I want my fucking life back”

It’s scary just how easy the demand felt falling from her lips.

She toes the man’s lifeless body with the tip of her heeled foot, raising an eyebrow as his hand just flops back. There’s smoke still running from her gun that she shot seconds ago. Lorraine sighs in the next moment, pulling off the short black wig; wiping the back of her hand against her mouth, ridding of any lingering red lipstick.

She rides down the elevator, it dings to a stop, there’s blood splattered on the inside of her wrist over her tattoo; it makes her eye twitch. She scrubs it fervently off with her thumb, biting her lip in concentration as she flexes her hand. Delphine’s name doesn’t look pretty blood stained.

The clack of her heels ring out in the reception area of the hotel; and she hears the thrum of a motorbike before she’s even left the building. It makes her smile, pushing open the revolving doors as the sun hits her skin. She takes a moment to breathe, to tilt her head back, to listen to how her bones crack and muscles stretch. Then to-

 “Paris looks good on you _mon amour”_

Delphine’s voice makes her smile, and she cranes her neck back down as she watches her take off her helmet; shaking out her hair and running her free hand through it. Lorraine, in that moment, wonders if she could bottle up the image of a sun kissed Delphine. Happy and free and _warm._

When Lorraine straddles the bike, sinking into the kiss Delphine graces her with as she angles her body to the older woman, she lets herself entertain the thought that she _does_ have her life back. Albeit it _is_ in fractured pieces, but then Delphine pulls back, eyes sparkling as she smiles, and Lorraine is content for the younger woman to put them back together.

To hold them carefully and fit them; piecing them together like the worlds most fucked up jigsaw puzzle.

 

 

-

 

 

 

(And she does, fuck, Delphine is _good_ at piecing her life back together)

Lorraine throws her head back, moans falling from her lips like a prayer. She bites her lip with the effort, hand coming up to the headboard behind her to grip; feeling how Delphine kisses and bites just under her jawline. Fuck, she’s two fingers deep and her thumb is rubbing so sensually and slowly at her clit and Lorraine is _seconds_ away from coming. From gripping at Delphine’s shoulders above her and kissing her to muffle her screams.

But the moment never comes, Lorraine can feel Delphine’s smirk on her neck as she slows down. Pumping slow and deep and _god,_ so agonizingly slow Lorraine can’t help but buck her hips up. Demanding more.

 “You fucking tease”

Delphine’s laugh is like wind chimes as she pulls back, maintaining eye contact with the woman beneath her. Still pulling soft moans from the older woman as her fingers work slowly, bringing her so close to the edge that Lorraine just wants to flip their bodies, intertwine her hand with Delphine’s free one and ride her. Fuck, the imagery itself is enough to make her moan.

God, Lorraine loves her. But she wants nothing more than to wipe that fucking smug smirk off her face.

 “Oh? _I’m_ a tease?” Delphine punctuates it with another slow thrust, thumb pressing harder onto her clit. Lorraine has to grit her teeth from moaning out her name. “Wasn’t it just last night you did the same thing to me baby?”

 _Jesus,_ that accent. She hates to admit it, but the older woman could come just from hearing her _speak._

Instead of answering, she opts to wrap her legs around Delphine’s waist, pulling her impossibly closer. Feeling the younger woman’s back muscles adjust and biceps strain with the effort of holding herself up. Lorraine practically _growls_ into the kiss she pulls them into.

“Just fuck me,” She bites at Delphine’s lower lip, pulling it between her teeth and gasping into her mouth. “Please”

Delphine’s eyes widen, a moan falling from her lips as she hears those words. Her forearms strain with the effort, but it’s so fucking worth it seeing her soulmate buck into her fingers; grasp at her back leaving nail indents and scratch marks, biting at her neck and smoothing it over with her tongue.

(Their beds headboard bangs against the wall all night; they find a hole in the plaster the next morning as Delphine snorts with laughter into Lorraine’s neck. The older woman laughs with her, their bodies vibrating with happiness, skin and ribcages and breasts pressed together)

Their tattoos seem to glow with them.

 

-


End file.
